#not only because I can’t draw like that but because she doesn’t have enough souls to have that power though she can look a bit creepy

[hazbinhappy]

I PROMISE IM WRITING I have free time tomorrow 🥲

[shalomniscient]

greetings gamers. my return to this webbed site approaches so i just wanted to say thanks for sticking around !! *throws arle fluff smut at y'all*

cw. [NSFT UTC] gross amounts of fluff, praise, creampie, kinda lazy morning sex yk notes. this is kind of selfship adjacent but can be read as a normal readerfic as well taglist. my comrade in arms of arle fluff nation @e-hibiscus 🫡🫡🫡

“dearest.”

arlecchino’s voice is barely above a whisper as she tries—and fails—to sit up on the bed. the cause? your arms wound tightly around her waist, and your face nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

“hm?” you respond with a lazy hum, snuggling even closer to her, if possible. your body is soft against her firmer one, and her hands rest placidly on your waist. she could simply move you, it wouldn’t be difficult at all for her, but she doesn’t. she can’t seem to be able to find the heart.

“i have work to attend to,” she reasons with you. “you know this.”

you breathe out a giggle against her neck. “okay. go, then.”

not surreptitiously at all, your arms get ever so slightly tighter around her, and she sighs. “beloved…”

“what?” you ask innocently, a self-satisfied, cheeky grin on your face. it’s such a lighthearted expression on you that she feels her conviction tremble in its presence. she has long mastered anger and sorrow, but the love you coax out of her still seems to be as wild and free as the day it was born.

“i cannot leave if you do not let me go,” she says, and you shrug, eyes twinkling with mirth. you lean in close, close enough that she can feel your warm breath spill across her own lips.

“then don’t,” you offer simply, and she rolls her eyes, but the slightest hint of a smile twitches at the corners of her mouth.

“you and i both know reality is far more complex than that,” she argues gently. the sunlight streaming through the windows only grows stronger by the minute, illuminating your lovely face in shades of gold. “my schedule does not allow for such leisure.”

your smile turns a twinge enigmatic, almost mischievous, and arlecchino’s eyes narrow. “doesn’t it?”

“little minx," she growls, but there's no bite to her tone. "what have you done?"

“managing your schedule is part of my duties, you know. and as your excellent adjutant, i made a few executive decisions on your behalf regarding your work-life balance.”

“‘a few executive decisions’,” she echoes, raising a brow. “i’m quite certain that is above the pay grade of mere adjutants, my dear.”

you roll your eyes at that, a teasing pout forming on your lips. “would you much prefer i make them as your wife, then?”

“immensely,” she agrees, and you laugh again, and arlecchino feels a swirl of butterflies come to life in her belly. how strange, that such feelings can be inspired in the soul of someone like her.

how beautiful, too.

“so will you stay?” you ask eventually, your tone hopeful, and she cannot find it anywhere in herself to deny you. not that she would want to, anyhow.

“it seems that i will,” she concedes. a free day is rare for her, and a free day to spend all with you even more so. she will not squander such an opportunity. “i am all yours, today.”

you beam at her then, and oh, not even the sun rays filtering in through the windows could even hope to compare to the brightness of your smile. you reduce her to a moon caught in your orbit, able to do nothing but reflect your radiance with a small smile of her own, one that only you could ever see.

your lips fit perfectly against her own when you kiss her, slow and sweet, as if she were something to savor. it sends thrills running up and down her spine, her cold blood starting to run hot. you must have noticed her reaction, because when you draw back, there’s a hungry glint in your eye that arlecchino is all too familiar with.

“i missed this,” you confess against her skin as your lips trail kisses down her neck. “missed having you.”

“we are hardly celibate even during work, my dear,” she chuckles, delighting in the way your teeth sink into your lower lip as you recall all the times the both of you had lost yourselves in each other at various places that normal people would certainly never dream of.

"that's different," you say, almost petulantly, and arlecchino runs a hand through your hair as you continue to reverently kiss your way down her body. and in a sense, she understands. desperate fucking between meetings in hidden hallways against cold walls or hard desks can certainly be enjoyable, but there is admittedly something special about this slower pace. perhaps, she muses to herself, as she lets the sensation of your lips over her skin wash over her, this is the love-making authors and poets write about.

her fingers wind tight in your hair and you squeak as she tugs you back to her lips so she can kiss you again, hungry and wanting. she has you properly straddle her hips, the fabric of her nightshirt ridden up to reveal the smooth muscle of her stomach. your hands trace the contours of her abs as you plunder her mouth, your tongue teasing the pointed tips of her canines and making her growl into your mouth.

"eager little thing," she murmurs when you draw back for breath, eyes half-lidded and dangerous in a way that makes your blood sing. her hands fall down to your hips, squeezing ever so slightly, and she delights in the way you're so soft under her touch. you take the opportunity to tug your own nightdress over your head and toss it over your shoulder, allowing her a stunning view of your bare upper body. and from where you're sat, low enough on her body, you can feel the twitch of her hard cock against your ass, still restrained by her sleep shorts.

you grin at her words, a hand reaching behind you to palm her through the fabric. the muscles in her jaw jump and flex as she grits her teeth. "pot, kettle, don't you think?"

"get on with it," she huffs, nails digging into your flesh ever so slightly as you tug her shorts down and free her aching cock, already dripping pre-cum. you look down lovingly at her as your fingers daintily wrap around her, exerting a delicate pressure as you pump your hand up and down. her eyes nearly flutter shut as she leans back into the pillows, the crosses of her pupils growing as she looks up at you.

as you continue to stroke her, she takes the liberty of rubbing her thumb over your stiff clit through your underwear. you jolt and squeak against her, surprised, though she keeps you firmly in place with her other hand. in doesn't take long for you to start rocking your hips, grinding against her hard abs and her thumb. your breathing deepens as pleasure ebbs through you like a tide, drawn and released by the gravity of your husband, your moon.

once she feels your slick drip through the now ruined fabric of your underwear and onto her skin, she stills your hips, and coaxes you to rise a little. you obey, and her dark hands push the fabric of your panties to the side while yours aligns her to your eager cunt. you gasp when the tip pushes in, the feeling of her stretching you out pleasurable in a way unlike anything else. you brace your hands on her chest and she coos at you as you take more and more of her.

"just like that, sweetheart," she murmurs, watching as more of her cock disappears into your tight heat, "so good for me, aren't you, sweet thing?"

you practically collapse onto her when she bottoms out, your hips now flush. your cunt clenches and squeezes and arlecchino has to resist the urge to fuck into you. she needs to let you adjust first. so she wraps her arms around you as you shiver on top of her, your face buried in her neck. her warm hands run up and down your spine, gentle, comforting, until your breathing evens out.

"ready?" she asks against your temple, and you whisper out your assent against her skin. arlecchino hums at that, shifting her legs to plant her feet flat on the bed. she offers you a soft, affectionate, "good girl" before she's pounding up into you, her strokes slow but deep, tip pushing up against that sweet spot inside you every time.

you can't do anything but tremble and moan. your whines and whimpers of fuck, so good, baby, so fucking good and right there, right there makes her go near delirious, rational thought slipping from her with each second. it doesn't take long for you to start clenching tighter around her, and she knows you're close. and you tell her as much, between breathy moans.

"'m close, baby, so close," you stutter out, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. your expression is pinched into one of pure pleasure, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes screwed shut. "oh, fuck--i love you, just like that, fuck, i love you so much--"

arlecchino groans as you babble your professions of love, her blood warming in her veins. not scorching like a raging flame, but still just as bright--like a hearth. "i know, sweetheart, i know," she mutters, driving into you harder with each thrust. "cum with me, sweet girl. can you do that for me?"

you nod eagerly, rocking your hips to chase the feeling of her cock dragging along your sensitive walls. arlecchino pulls you down by the neck with one hand to crash your lips together, while the other toys with your stiff clit through your thoroughly ruined panties. you whine and whimper into her mouth, and she swallows each noise eagerly, greedily.

"i love you," she breathes out, a hand on your cheek, thumb stroking the ridge of your cheekbone gently even as she pounds into you. "my sweet girl, my wife, my sun."

she kisses you again and then seats you firmly on her cock, her tip mashing against that spot inside you and pushing you over that edge. you practically wail into the kiss as your body tenses and trembles with each dizzying wave of pleasure. the force of your cunt bearing down on her pulls arlecchino along with you, and she groans as she cums, spilling ropes of cum into your squeezing cunt. her arms around you hold you close as you drift through both your highs until you come back down, panting against her chest.

she takes your hand, limp as it is, and brings it to her lips to kiss your knuckles. "take your time and rest, dearest," she hums, tilting your chin up to look her in the eyes. her gaze is soft, affectionate, but there's a hint of danger in them that makes your throat go dry in a good way.

"after all, thanks to you we have all the time in the world today, don't we?"

[p0orbaby]

pls katie mccabe x reader where reader is dyslexic?

One Step at a Time

warnings: talks of dyslexia

a/n: I hope this was okay! I don’t have dyslexia myself so I’m hoping I did your request justice

word count: 558

-

The door chimed excruciatingly loudly when it opened. Drawing the eyes of most of the patrons to you, triggering an awkward recoil from you at their stares.

It’s like they all knew you were late. Knew why you were late. Which would be impossible, but your mind is telling you otherwise and it makes you feel ten times worse.

Your eyes dance around the place, trying to see past the lingering looks you were getting to find the person you were here for. You find her sitting in the corner, hands wrapped around a humorously large mug. Your shoulders deflate a little when she meets your gaze and smiles.

“Finally decided to grace me with your presence then?” Katie teased when you settled in the seat opposite her.

She was only playing, you knew without a doubt, but your heart sank at the realisation that yet again you’d fallen victim to your own brain all the same.

You began to explain, “I misread the clock, and then there was this unexpected-“

“Baby, we’ve talked about this” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. The coffee mug now set on the table so she can take your hands in hers. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, okay?”

“Sorry” you murmur. Eyes shifting to the table, counting the spilled sugar granules as a means to distract yourself from ridicule.

“Hey, look at me,” Katie instructs. “Y/N”, she says again when you don’t.

You look up finally, though she’s blurry from the tears you didn’t realise were threatening to fall.

“I just… I hate feeling like I’m letting everyone down” you admit. Your voice raw, you felt embarrassed.

The circles Katie was drawing on the back of your hand stop when she reaches for your cheek. Wiping away a single tear that escapes.

“Don’t cry, my brave girl. You’ll get there”. You don’t know what to say, so you shrug as you wallow in your own self pity. “You will, I promise”

“I feel stupid”

Katie’s eyes soften as she hears your frustration. “Stupid? Babe, you’re far from it”

“Only stupid people can’t tell the time” you counter, glad the cafe is loud enough to not hear the crack in your voice.

Katie’s gaze doesn’t waver, “Darlin’, intelligence has nothing to do with reading a clock. You’re exceptionally bright, and everyone has their struggles. It’s what makes us human”

You shake your head, “But it’s such a basic thing. I should be able to do it”

“Basic or not, we all have our challenges. And by the way, only brave souls like you openly confront them” she insists. “Look, you’ve been going to your meetings. We’ve been reading together before bed. If that doesn’t show you’re trying then I don’t know what does”

You glance at her, gratitude in your eyes, “Thanks, Katie” you say with a sigh. Not because you think she’s wrong, because you know she’s right. There’s no need to dwell on something you know you can’t change, but keeping it maintained is the best you can do. And you’re doing it. At least you’re winning at that.

Katie gives you a reassuring smile, “No need for thanks, love. We’re in this together. And remember, progress isn’t always about perfection, it’s about the journey, the effort, and you’re doing wonderfully. I’m so proud of you”

[rainbowchaox]

Qsmp! Missa and his Importance to Death Family

This essay I won’t lie primarily became a reality out of spite. People always forget about Missa when it comes to the dynamic of Death Family. Or act he doesn’t exist wanting to add new members. And this is a shame because Missa is so important to everyone that’s part of Death Family. And Missa storyline is about not feeling worthy enough to be with his family. It sucks to see people discredit his importance.

Missa always has and always will be integral to Death Family as a whole. In fact the name Death Family wouldn’t have been coined if not for Missa being part of it. In fact this is what Phil believes as well. They are death family because of Missa. Their family crest is literally a skull because of Missa.

Missa always even when he can’t be there is felt in the foundation of death family. He gets mentioned out of love. Everyone gets so excited when he does come online. And every character within the dynamic has trances of Missa.

People forget that when the egg event started that Missa and Phil were the pair everyone was jealous of. Fit numerous times have said he was jealous of their easy partnership. Missa and Phil had a couple of very good days. And Phil brain chemistry changed completely for his husband since. Phil adores Missa so much. Phil finds great comfort in Missa. Missa is his Sun. He lights up even the darkest days. And Phil always been loyal to a fault. Once you gain his trust it’s even harder for you to lose it. Once you are part of his flock nothing and I mean nothing can dissuade him. Phil is always so paranoid and so scared but Missa makes Phil feel like can just live. And not worry about every possibility.

Not to mention the children. People forget so many traits of Chayanne came straight from Missa. Missa taught Chayanne how to cook. He taught him lessons about being strong. He talked ages about what they are both scared of. Literally the first canon evidence that Chayanne is scared he won’t be able to save anyone. Or even the fact he wears a skull. People have forgotten the only reason he wears one is because of how much he loves Missa. And he does. He loves his papa. Recently it’s known that he goes to him when he is feeling vulnerable or sad. Missa brings him great comfort. He can finally feel like a kid with Missa. If Missa wasn’t Important this wouldn’t be a thing. And Chayanne is so protective over his papa. The most mad Chayanne has been is someone breaking up his dad’s marriage or someone making his papa Missa sad.

Tallulah also always knew how Missa important is to her family. Chayanne and Phil always only had good things to say about Missa. They never stopped considering Missa as part of the family (Despite Missa believing others lies easily that this wasn’t the case). Phil always saw Missa part of the family. So much he always considered Missa her father as well. And Missa because he is so GOOD. Such a great husband and great father. (There’s reasons why Death Family is called the Functional Family.)

And I have said this in my analysis about Tallulah. She NEEDED Missa. Missa loves her just for her. Chayanne gets to be the spoiled baby boy (which is always so cute and adorable, gives me cute aggression. He loves his papa so much.) and Tallulah gets to be the one protecting others. And Missa immediately calls her amazing and such a good protector. He draws the four of them as family. He draws his daughter. Not as the cute girl that loves flowers and nature. But as his warrior daughter that protects him. Tallulah always saw Missa as someone that is safe and someone that her family loves. And when Missa told her he always considered her his daughter. Tallulah heart was so full.

Missa in his family eyes is part of the family. No matter what. He is part of the family. Missa has trances on their house. He has trances on them as people. He is the soul of death family. He is their comfort. He is Missa. Their dad and Phil’s husband. Death Family wouldn’t exist without Missa. And people need to stop thinking Missa isn’t important. That he can be changed with anyone. HE IS DAD and THE HUSBAND. He is so important to Tallulah. To Chayanne. To Phil. He is the soul of death family. And he is so loved. Loved by his husband. By his children. They don’t want anyone else to be part of THEIR family.

[deadghosy]

If I was in Hazbin hotel:

Author insert x Hazbin Hotel

Prompt: an author is bored as they decided to jump into their favorite fandom at this very moment.

Honestly I’m bored asf rn lmao.

Will, the blogger in tumblr known as Deadghosy was bored in his room as he listens to jay aka kub scoutz 😍 playing lil guardsman. Being even more bored they opened their palm as a digital portal opens-

OKAY STOP…at first I was gonna do that story ass shit but let me be real. I died by not getting enough sleep and I popped into hell for not liking those Jesus posts😭

I’d honestly be in the sloth ring for being lazy asf and being tired most of the time. But also be in the gluttony ring as well. A BIG BITCH GOTTA EATTTT😭

But I would probably still be able to go into the pride ring because of my pride in not needing help from people. 😭 I hate asking for damn help irl.

I actually have very sharp canine teeth and bottom rows, I might as well be mistaken for a humanoid demon lol/j

But if did have a demon form, it’s a bear since I eat and sleep all day lmao.

Alastor wouldn’t “hate hate” me but find me annoying. I would try to get on his good side and never do deals with him obviously cause I like my soul 😍. But dead ass I’m showing him lingo of gen z ☝🏾💀 cause ain’t no way ima hear this deer man yap in a way I can’t understand. This is not no new broadcast from the old times dude. “Salutations!-” HAVIN ASS😕

Friendship level: 5/10

Sir Pentious, I’m teaching this bitch how to do the whip and nae nae 😄. I love him personally cause he so silly sometimes. I would just pop up as he works on weapons but not help him lol. I think personally our friendship would be the kind to talk to each other for a little and stop and repeat😕

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Charlie would like me because of my hyperactive personality sometimes. Like if I’m fixating on something, she would listen and probably tell her father. But mostly i wouldn’t do the trust exercises, she’ll have to drag my black ass to do them 💀

Friendship level: 6/10

Lucifer and I would be so chill dead ass. He’s probably adopt me if I’m gonna be honest cause I also have a duck toy in my room as we speak 😭LITERALLY I MIGHT AS WELL BE A MINI HIM WITH HIM HAVING HYPER FIXATIONS.

Friendship level: 10/10

Vaggie and me, idk she’s chill but short tempered. But I don’t think she would hate me but only he suspicious at first, but then just be chill with me. I would try to help her around but procrastinate lmao

Friendship level: 5.5//10

Husk would probably be chill but not have an opinion on me honestly. It will depend on me just going to talk to him or being nervous to talk to him. I hate being awkward so I would just wave or sit by his bar and chill with him as I draw.

Friendship level: it’s probably between 3/10 and 5/10

Angel and me, idk I feel like I would be a small friend of his to help. He wouldn’t trauma dump that much on me cause I’m just a kid so it would be like “oh my work is shit but my boss is even more shit.” So I would just nod acting like I don’t know what’s going on. Plus, I would probably try to make him something with the help of Lucifer

Friendship level: ima be honest…it’s probably a 4/10 cause I’m a minor and he has problems he need it overcome. He doesn’t need a minor to yap his ear off 😕

The Vee’s…😕ain’t no way ima talk to them front to front if I’m actually gonna be their friends dead ass. I would probably mostly be friends with Velvette to hook me up on outfits😍

Friendship level: -1000/10

Valentino…HAH YOU WOULD HAVE TO CATCH MY BLACK ASS ACTUALLY DEAD IF IM GONNA CHILL WITH THIS BASTARD 😂 I’m burning his whole studio down in a cool ass pyro tf2 mask. Fuck that bitch, all my homies hate Valentino 🤭

ENEMY LEVEL: 10000000/10🖕🏾

Vox, I’m begging him to try to advance my phone so I can prank call heaven and hell at the same time. I’m using so much evil ass shit🦆 like dead ass ima say “I heard your high school bully is in heaven” to an angel so they would go crazy trying to find their bully lmao. But Vox would hate my ass cause..I’m me? Idk lol

Enemy level: 8.5/10

Velvette, eh I feel like we would be mutuals but not too friendly. More like a hook up just so i can get free outfits and she can get a quick teen model and I can leave with the fit fr 😍 no money, free outfit‼️

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Adam and me..we throwin hands. Full on fist to fist. He probably would try to cheat but nahhh, you gettin kicked in the manhood bitch 😄‼️ but yeah me and him, enemies for life. He’s funny I’ll admit, but be honest having him beside you irl💀

Enemy level: he better keep one eye open.

Sera…yeah she not letting me in heaven lmao 😭 that’s all ima say LMAOO

Friendship level: -0/10

Lute will 100% percent kill me for my mouth 😭. I’d probably say GYATT to her for funnies only to get stab. But I would just be quiet and try to be on her good side lmao

Friendship level: 2/10

Emily would like me but would be the type of person to keep me in check with my mouth and vulgar language as I just chill eating all the food in heaven. She def givin me good tours.

Friendship level: a good 7.5/10

That’s all I have lmao

[whoopssteddiefeels]

Penny in the Air

Robin is a lot of things: judgey, hyperactive, anxious, impulsive, talkative, loud- there’s a list okay, and she’s very familiar with it. High up the list is that she is very, very gay (if possible, she’s pretty sure she’s actually getting gayer. She blames Steve for this, as she’s pretty sure it has to do with being able to finally talk about her crushes to someone other than her reflection.)

The point is, she’s gay, so she’s not surprised that she notices first. The Steve-Eddie thing. Because it is, in fact, a thing at this point.

She knows Eddie is gay- knows it like the sky is blue and David Bowie rocks- because of, y’know, the way he is (if she had any doubt, the way he leaned in while calling Steve “big boy”, ew, killed it dead.) Her research suggests this is “gaydar,” but its very unfair, she thinks, that so far it has only detected exactly (2) gays, both men, making it pretty much useless. It has given her exactly 0 information on Vickie.

She empathizes with Eddie’s position. Feels it pang under her sternum when his eyes go soft watching Steve talk emphatically, hair flopping around in that ridiculous way it does. Knows how it must catch in his throat when his hand suddenly retracts halfway to Steve’s shoulder, going to his own hair to cover the aborted movement. Tries hard to not over-identify with the sharp tug he gives there, trying to snap himself out of it (fails because she did literally exactly that when Vickie was in the video store the previous day, almost as if he had seen and copied the mechanism).

The part of the puzzle she can’t figure out is Steve. She’s annoyingly aware that he likes (groan) boobies, thanks Fast Times, and he isn’t treating Eddie like a girl whose number he’s trying to score. That being said, whenever the older boy appears, Steve lights up like a damn Christmas tree. Affection doesn’t have to be romantic; she knows this- wants to hit several of the kiddos over the head with it whenever they allude to her dating Steve- but empathy for Eddie is tinting her judgement, and once you put on the gay rose-tinted glasses it’s hard to unsee the possibility. It certainly seems like flirting. Rearranging his hair every three seconds, drawing Eddie’s eyes to the mane that is his pride and joy. Getting what she can only describe as unnecessarily close when he squeezes by Eddie in the video store aisles or whoever’s living room they’re sprawled in, hands brushing a shoulder, back, or one time his hip under the pretense of maintaining balance. The soft blush whenever Eddie flirts hard in a way he knows can be passed off as a joke. The honest megawatt smile Steve gets whenever Eddie starts in on his usual antics is infinitely more endearing than the smolder he’s learned to use like a weapon.

She usually knows exactly what Steve is thinking or feeling before he does. They’ve got that whole platonic soul mate telepathy thing, and he’s easily the center of her social world. So, since she can’t tell what he’s thinking (other than the obvious but unhelpful “Eddie, yay!”), she’s 99.9% sure, from experience, ok, that it means he isn’t thinking. Like at all. So, what she’s witnessing is instinctive, his body just moving into Eddie’s space because it feels correct, and he hasn’t paused to think about it.

             He’s walking that line of comfortable and affectionate that is ambiguously intimate. Could be platonic, could be more. It would be frustrating for anyone with a crush, but she knows from bitter experience with straight-girl crushes that Eddie must be going insane. And yes, Robin and Eddie are friends, but not close enough for her to open a conversation with “So you’re obviously gay and into Steve, my best friend who I talk to every second of every day, and no he hasn’t mentioned it, and neither have I. What’s up with that?” Similarly, she can’t quite figure out how to bring it up to Steve without accidentally outing Eddie in the process.

That’s the main reason she’s keeping her mouth uncharacteristically shut on the subject. She is not, however, above the occasional raised eyebrow, ok, especially as Eddie’s flirting slowly becomes ridiculously obvious. The man is literally leaning on the counter, chin on his hand, mooning up at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve has his hip propped on the opposite side, leaning into the shared space. How are either of them this oblivious, seriously.

~*~

She’s there when the penny finally drops.

They’re not even watching a romantic movie, it’s fucking Life of Brian, all three of them calling out their favorite lines along with the actors, throwing things and generally goofing off. If she takes the armchair to force the boys together on the couch, she doesn’t think anyone can blame her. If she’s feeling a little smug that they both sit in the middle, right next to each other, instead of taking opposite ends, she keeps it to herself. She might not want to stick her foot right in the middle of that mess, but she’s not above setting booby traps.

Robin couldn’t tell you exactly when Steve’s arm went around Eddie’s shoulder; it was somewhere between Eddie practically climbing into Steve’s lap for a “Biggus Dickus” re-enactment, the closeness and flirting safely enveloped in humor, and Steve attempting to force Eddie to “haggle” for the bag of chips. When she glances over from the safety of her armchair, Steve’s arm is trapped behind Eddie’s head, draped over his shoulder on the opposite side. Eddie, usually a constant ball of fidgety motion, is frozen stiff like he’s trying not to scare off a nervous rabbit. Even in the blue light coming off the screen she can see the flush coloring his usually nocturnal-pale cheeks.

The thing is, Steve had just discussed this move with her. Told her to invite Vickie to movie night, recommended light, easily joked off roughhousing and settling an arm around her in a way specifically gaged to judge the reaction. Which means he knows. No way he hasn’t finally figured out what his lizard brain has clearly been screaming for months (seriously, she deserves a medal. Someone tell her future girlfriends about her stamina), not with the way he’s twirling a soft brown curl around and around his finger. He must know Eddie can feel that. And oh. Steve is not-so-subtly glancing to his right, trying to gage that reaction like they discussed, to see if this is ok.

Yup. Robin needs to be literally anywhere else. She tries to be subtle (insert laugh here), muttering “bathroom” and legging it out of the room, seeking the safety of the kitchen. She wasn’t worried though- odds are she could start playing trumpet and those two wouldn’t hear it past the tension of the moment.

 ~*~

In addition to gay, Robin is also easily bored. She hums along to “Always look on the bright side of life,” drifting in from the living room, crunching on some peppery crackers she found in a cabinet in a way that vaguely matches the song’s rhythm. She would just leave the boys to whatever they were going to do (yuck, don’t think about it), but unfortunately the two people most likely to give her a ride home were occupied (seriously, no thinking about it). She’d held out for as long as she could, really, but if the movie was ending, surely she had given them enough time?

Hoping she wasn’t going to regret it, she peaked out of the kitchen, and was relieved to see that 1) everyone still had clothes on and 2) Steve and Eddie were cuddling. Fucking finally.

“SO, BOYS,” she boomed (remember loud is on the list of things she is), trying not to enjoy the way two ridiculous heads of hair jumped and then shifted away from one another anxiously. “Who finally lost the longest game of gay chicken I’ve ever seen?”

Steve’s head makes an audible thump as it drops against the back of the couch, hands coming up to rub at his face as she rounds the furniture to face them, feeling deliciously smug. Eddie gave up any pretense and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, sweater and hair completely hiding his face.

“Shut up Robin, go away,” Steve groans.

“Nope! This has been the slowest burn of all time, you guys were killing me. I have to balance it out by being just as insufferable.” she chirped, doing her best Steve impression, hands on her hips and eyebrow quirked.

“Technically, I would say we both won gay chicken since neither of us pulled back. No chickens here. Roosters only, in fact.” Eddie surfaces with a smug little smile, dimples on full display.

“Oh you’re definitely a cock Munson, I’ll give you that,”

“Don’t make me flip you the bird-”

“That’s a bit of ostritch-”

“Well toucan play at that game-”

“I’m so happy I like tits-“

“Why me?” Steve grumbled at the same time Eddie dropped his teasing tone to ask, “Wait what?”

“Me? Lesbian. You? Obviously gay. Steve has been flirting back at you for months you dingus.”

“I’ve been what?” Steve sits up straight, suddenly laser focused on Robin. “I have not. I only realized, like, a week ago-”

He was seriously going to be the death of her.

“Steve. Stephen. My guy. What would you say if I told you a girl had been giving me a hair show, the unnecessary squeeze-by, and big eyes? Consistently. For weeks.”

Eddie starts laughing. Then cackling. Steve went an even deeper shade of red, though she could tell this one was more indignant ruby than embarrassed scarlet.

“Thank you,” Eddie wheezed out, fighting down another fit, picking himself up from where he had slid down the couch. “Oh my god, thank you for fucking noticing that. He was wasn’t he? I thought it was just in my head, y’know, and Gareth always said I tend to imagine signs that aren’t there.”

“Oh I know, you think you have a hard time, girls are so physically affectionate platonically, it’s impossible to tell-”

“Ok. Done with this conversation!” Steve interrupted, standing up between the two of them, hands furiously combing through his hair.

Robin only grinned wider at Eddie. “So, Munson, care to give me a ride home?”

“You know, Buckley, I would be delighted.”

“Hey now-” Steve tried to interject as the two of them moved towards the door.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Don’t mention it, fair lady. Your chariot awaits.”

“Wait, hang on, Eddie-” Steve’s tone shifted from confused to plaintive as she stepped out into the night. And she resolutely pretended to not hear Eddie’s reply before he closed the door behind them.

“Sit tight, big boy, I’ll be right back!”

[coca-coeli]

this is for later reference, when I actually start posting about the minnesota au

ponyboy curtis

- his family moved up to duluth after their parents died to go live with family friends, the Mathews

- originally from owatonna, in south mn

- the curtises had a small family farm, pony hates that they had to leave it behind

- becomes interested in lake superior and ships, since it’s so ingrained in the culture

- starts drawing ships and landscapes, starts to consume his waking life

- often bikes down to lake superior to calm down, later on johnny shows him a lot of the little natural wonders

- desperate to find a purpose for himself in the world

- later on works at the maritime museum as a tour guide

- bikes around everywhere, usually with johnny who’s the only other person who has a bike

keith mathews, aka mathews

- him and his mom used to move all over since his mom was searching for job opportunities, now in duluth because she has a steady job as top manager of a carhop place near their house (a & dubs)

- the curtises are living with them for a while until they can get their feet off the ground in duluth

- originally from montana, but has lived in owatonna (where he met the curtises), two harbors, pierre (south dakota), and now duluth

darry curtis

- arranged the move, pony hates him for it

- works at a shipping company, loading coal

- also hunts with steve, bringing home decent income and decent food

- still skis, and begins making friends with people outside of the gang while he’s there

- works at the ski hill in the winter, when he can’t hunt

sodapop ‘pepsi’ curtis

- works at the nearby auto shop, the boys there call him pepsi

- likes duluth plenty, doesn’t mind a thing about moving. more suited for city life

- doesn’t get cold, gives all his coats and hats to pony (drives darry wild)

- once summer rolls around, swims in just about every body of water he can find

steve randle

- works at the auto shop and occasionally at buck’s place (hates buck, likes the money and the decorations)

- likes deer hunting, has a slim alliance with buck (since he buys deer skins and antlers from steve to decorate his bar)

- the better hunter between him and darry

- doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, prefers working

- keeps his hunting guns in the mathews/curtis house so he doesn’t have to go home to hunt

- though mathews’ family is better off, steve has the most money out of the gang (due to a mix of responsibility, a pretty good income, and a lack of a family to feed)

- originally from iowa, moved up north around five years before the curtises came around

dal winston

- came up from chicago

- homeless but always ends up under someone’s roof to sleep

- tries to get johnny under a roof too, but johnny prefers camping out

- gets cash from occasionally bartending at buck’s place, often breaks in on off-hours to get food for him and johnny

johnny cade

- homeless, unemployed

- has a bunch of different spots he camps, usually far away from people

- excellent fisherman, eats fish whenever he doesn’t feel like sticking around for meal from the mathews/curtises

- runaway, nobody knows where from

- no purpose until pony comes along with enough restlessness to jog johnny’s desire for more

- later works at the maritime museum with ponyboy

- constantly swimming in the summer. knows a hundred little watering holes and has swam in all of them at least three times

- has the most expensive coat of the gang (it was shoplifted via a dallas and mathews double team event)

- has a cheap bike that he leaves at the the mathews house

adding playlist here…

[crguang]

Literally did all of Cabernet’s event once it hit for me. AND OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH MMMMMMYYYYYY GGGGGOOOOODDDD her voice is sooooo good. I’d happily be one of her ingredients tbh and I’d be right there with her helping her find souls to eat. Do you have any thoughts about Cabernet?

OH also might be a bit spoiler but if you’ve gotten to the part where Cabernet “sacrifices” herself for us and we get the cg of her in the vines. After like finding out that she can control vines she willingly put herself in that position. Any thoughts? Thirsts? I have a lot but I haven’t written in like a year so I’m not confident enough to write a whole like summary or whatever a lot of people do here and other blogs.

Also happy that you’re into Ptn and honestly can’t wait to see more writing from you about it.

i just finished her event. i have so many thoughts, bear with me because i don’t even know where to begin, this was such a good and creative spin to ‘the menu’ (2022) i loved it so much it’s gonna take a lot to have another event take the #1 spot. PTN’s creativity and artistry is what constantly draws me in the first place, but it still baffles me how they can create stories so unique, and so many of them too. lesbianism aside, this is such a fun event omg. the music, the battles, the banquet menu and having Cabernet review each of them afterwards— so fun. now, as a lesbian… i’ll just say that by the end of it i was so flustered and hot that i couldn’t say a word for several long minutes.

do i have any thoughts about Cabernet… how do i even explain how delightful that woman is like first of all, she’s so gorgeous i had to drink a lot of water getting through that event. she’s so fucking sexy. it’s not even just her appearance, it’s the way she carries herself and how everyone around her treats her as some untouchable, larger than life figure, the confidence and detachment that comes with that is so hot. it’s not even a performance!!!! she lives her truth and does what she wants. she doesn’t eat what she doesn’t want to eat. and everyone else around her scrambles to fit her standards because of her background and eccentricity— it’s so fascinating how she never directly influences what others think, they simply immediately take her words as either “good” or “bad”. she’s not telling them what to eat. she’s not like that food blogger reporting on what people should consume to be healthier, or that boxing champion who’s going around telling people they should work out to be stronger/slimmer. she gives her opinion on food and leaves. people come to her. they’ve made up this character in their mind and the whole time she’s just after some delicious food. at the end, with McGrath, what she said to the chef were her genuine thoughts. sure, she concealed them for the bit but when it comes to the sanctity of food and her own desires, she’s always so honest, i really like that.

HER VOICE. DON’T GET ME STARTED. it fits her so perfectly, the way it plays into her character as someone who has others dote and wait on her constantly. she’s so kafka-like!!!! where she only ever talks at her own pace, does what she wants, has people listening to her every word with unwavering attention— she’s composed, confident and laidback and it shows just by the way she talks it’s so great. the drawl… the rasp… the breathiness as she loses herself in her own ecstasy, GODDDDD. how deep and intense it gets sometimes. her VA had to be in crippling debt because the effort and talent that was put into this performance hit me so hard i was sooo flustered (im playing with headphones and my settings are set so that the voices are louder than the music so she was really speaking into my ears like.) almost had my eyes rolling back and definitely had me pulling at my collar when she got so ecstatic at the end. the breathy “yes.. yes!” WHATTTT???!?!? i will send AISNO my therapy bills because they knew what they were doing having her moan like that and call Kelvin a good girl. me next im begging

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE ENDING. LET’S. so many things to say, so little words to convey how specially crafted for me that scene was. cannibalism as the ultimate form of desire will always be appealing to me, and not even in a sexual standpoint (we’ll get there eventually…) to need someone so fiercely that the only logical solution is to consume them entirely will always hit for me like! there doesn’t have to be sentimentality involved, it could be pure bottomless and insatiable lust but this scene was so romantic to me. she waited for Chief to wake up, tied them up prettily for her, made a whole culinary arrangement (that she doesn’t eat!), she’s constantly reigning in her own desires, what she lives by (“a sinner’s power comes from the heart”), just to truly savour them and have them both eventually “become one” (that voiceline makes me tweak). and it’s beautiful when you think about how she doesn’t literally eat people but instead consumes their souls; she finds Chief’s soul so unique, so genuine and pure that she would stay by their side despite that deep seated desire to devour them. she keeps them close the whole time; a hand on her flushed cheek, a kiss on their hair, her lips on their wrist directly over what gives them life… i sound like a freak but that is genuinely so beautiful to me LMFAO. there is nothing more intimate than two souls merging into one.

it’s like the writers pried into my mind and made this whole event for me to enjoy personally because i picked up exactly what they were putting down like that was magnificent. this quote especially tingled my brain sooooo good because again, SO ROMANTIC???? those options both require intimacy and it implies more than just understanding of a character; to kiss someone’s thoughts is not only understanding them but embracing them completely. to offer your flesh willingly for another’s satiation is the most extreme form of devotion like am i crazy…? this is peak to me

im realizing i didnt answer your question about the scene with the vines but you can guess that it had me shuddering just like everything that happened afterwards because SHE’S HOT AS FUCK. her poison ivy slay. the art is incredible and the way she’s still so seductive about it is so… i need her tremendously. she knew what she was doing and had to go down looking sexy as fuck and honestly i respect it. i understand McGrath so bad because that obsession was delicious like sorry, luring dozens of people into playing a twisted game where they inevitably all turn into dishes to be reviewed and/or savoured by the object of your longing is some shit i’d write fr. look at her bruh. that blush is insane. forget enacting a self-given sort of divine judgement on random people, i’d actively BETTER MYSELF to become the most scrumptious meal she’s ever had. no tying up necessary unless she’s into that.

i could thirst all night long. we would have the freakiest, wettest, sloppiest sex i’d be lethargic for 3 days afterwards. i would be in her dms like “please let me eat your pussy please let me eat your pussy pleaseeee please please please please”. i am NOT demure i am not classy i have no decorum— i’d spend so long between her thighs my jaw would dislocate like idk. we would fuck until our combined bodily fluids mutate on a cellular level and creates toxic gas that wipes out half the city. i’d start eating her back likejhdjfjsjdjs

jokes aside i really am obsessed with her character, she’s definitely in my top 5😵‍💫 it probably goes something like hamel, adela, garofano, cabernet, oak casket. i just know my top 2 aren’t moving yet (shalom……..) but yeah i love her a lot and i can’t believe they didn’t rerun her banner at the same time like they did adela because now im mad she’s not in my account

[kurtmustdie]

What Pokémon do u think the black parade members are? :3 (and the patient)

Rubs hands together evilly

The patient reminds me a lot of smeargle design wise. Look at this guy. That is smeargle

Theme wise I’d associate him much more with houndstone though. In pokemon scarlet/violet it’s implied that the houndstone evolution line is associated with mabostiff through its design. It revolves around the story of an old dying dog, or just a dog dying of some kind of illness, and id just associate him with it because of that.

Also just look at this guy he’s cool as fuck

With death, again, I have 2 Pokemon in mind that are both associated for differing reasons: Dusknoir and Absol.

Dusknoir for the most part is associated for aesthetics, but also it’s a pokemon that is associated with the afterlife. It just steals human souls. Absol on the other hand is known to be a bad omen of something horrible to come and I think that ties in with his story with the patient very nicely. Death is there as a warning of the patients impending demise. Absol doesn’t only predict death but it predicts really anything terrible that happens to people it comes up to according to Pokemon lore so

Also just. White hair. Absol has white fur. It’s perfect. If he had one he’d spoil the hell out of that little dog thing.

Oddly enough as much as I researched to answer this particular question I couldn’t really find anything that reminds me of the other paraders at the moment, but I do have a few ideas in mind for mother war since she’s just really interesting to me. Ok everyone other than Mikey’s character 😭

I associate Mikey with Corviknight. Mainly because it’s just an awesome looking knight bird thing and I tie that in with the clear indication that the character Mikey plays is, or at least was, apart of the Military. Also its evolution before, corvidsquire just kinda looks like him and I can’t really pinpoint exactly why..

Personally I associate her most with Spiritomb, which on its own has a lot of cultural significance that I won’t get into but solely from the way it’s described in game it’s very mother war. It’s made up of 108 souls, souls that belonged to people and pokemon that were mischievous or “sinners” in their lifetime, which could be attributed to the parade as a whole. As much as I like how Death is the leader of the black parade I just have this constant feeling that Mother War is the one who’s really in charge here, mainly because she’s been around the longest. She sort of keeps the spirits that follow the parade in check. I think that spiritomb is slightly similar in that way.

Also something about the shape of the spirits purple spiral and her hair is associated the same her. It’s actually the main reason why I draw her with smoke for hair. I just think it’s cool.

[materassassino]

Q or U, whoever you decide!

Thank you for this one! 🥺

Minific prompts

U - Coming Home

“Can you stop fidgeting?”

Joe blinks, jerked forcefully out of his reverie by Andy’s forceful hand on his knee. He hadn’t even realised it had been bouncing. He looks at her, and she groans.

“Not the eyes, Joe...”

“I’m sorry!” He isn’t. “I can’t help it!” That’s the truth.

A nervous energy is prickling just under his skin, lightning in his blood. He got the window seat on the train, so he’s been staring out at the miles going past, impatient to the point of near madness. It’s been a month. A whole month. How could anyone expect him to not start pacing the too-small cage of his own mind when his soul has been missing half of itself?

Separation has always made him twitchy, and wistful, and prone to morose sighing. Andy learnt this centuries ago, and still she insisted.

(He knows why. She wants time with them, with each of them alone, something sacred and only theirs. And he’s loved this, just him-and-Andy, like those centuries ago when they wandered across the entirety of North Africa while Nicky and Quynh went East. And Andy knows better than to think he hasn’t loved this, that he doesn’t want more of it. But, well… Nicky.)

He shrugs helplessly. Nicky is always present in his thoughts, in time with his heartbeat, even when Joe isn’t actively thinking of him.

She sighs.

“At least it’s not poetry,” she grumbles, sliding lower in her seat with folded arms and outstretched legs.

“The poetry is for him, where it isn’t wasted,” Joe says primly. She snorts at that, bumping her shoulder into his.

--

It is night by the time they arrive at their destination, the small country station almost completely black. They’re the only ones who get off there, stumbling tiredly off the train and into the dark. A car’s headlights turn on.

“Hey!” Nile calls from the window, waving. Joe brightens at seeing her, but his heart sinks when he realises she’s alone. He tries not to pout as he heaves his bag into the boot and settles in the back seat. He’s not sure he manages, but it’s dark enough that Nile probably doesn’t notice. It’s not her fault, anyway, it’s entirely his.

“Have fun without us?” Andy asks.

“He cheats at rummy,” Nile replies, sounding completely and utterly betrayed, making Joe burst out laughing.

The drive back to the safehouse is long and, to Joe, incredibly slow. Time is molasses now, his destination so close and yet so stubbornly out of reach. The road is narrow and packed in on either side by dense forest, so whenever they encounter another vehicle it’s a stalemate as they stare each other down, daring the other to back up.

Joe drums his fingers on his knee, toe tapping, as a bus stands its ground and waits, like it has all the time in the world, for Nile to ease into the sliver of grass on the side. They nearly lose a wing mirror to a tree trunk.

Finally they make their turning, and relief settles on Joe like sunlight. The light in the kitchen is on, and Joe sees his silhouette move from one window to another.

He’s out of the car before Nile’s even pulled the handbrake. He grabs both their bags, because he’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t, and keeps his eyes on the front door. It opens as he reaches it.

Oh, light of his life! A thousand poems couldn’t describe the vision before him! It is as if the shadows are lifted from his sight!

He dumps the bags on the doorstep and draws Nicky into his arms, burying his face in his neck.

“Halabik,” Nicky says, just the tiniest hint of reproach for not even getting inside the damn house, but Joe doesn’t care. He makes a plaintive noise against Nicky’s warm skin, breathing in deep, and beneath the smell of cooking and his cheap-ass three-in-one bodywash is that scent that is purely, perfectly Nicky. The scent of home.

Nicky pushes him away gently, earning himself another noise like a small woodland creature being oppressed, but it’s simply to plant both his hands on the sides of Joe’s head and pull him into a kiss. Joe melts into it, melts into the taste of Nicky and the warmth of his lips and body, and he is so ready to simply drag this man into bed and wrap himself in him in any and all ways possible.

“Let us in, you fools!” Andy barks, planting a boot on Joe’s ass – not hard, but a nudge.

They roll with it, breaking the kiss with a laugh, but refuse to part as Nicky drags Joe backwards into the house. Nile is the one to lug Joe’s bag in.

“It’s only been a month!” she says, shaking her head.

“We’re woefully co-dependent,” Joe says, making Nicky chuckle.

“There’s dinner,” Nicky says. “We were waiting for you two.”

Joe can’t resist planting another kiss on him, and a nuzzle for good measure. He can smell it, fragrant and mouth-watering, the kamounia Nicky always makes for a homecoming, regardless of where they are and what the weather is. Beef, most likely, out here, but Joe wouldn’t complain whatever it was.

It is late, but the good food and the bottle of wine ease the exhaustion from the sharp tension of travel to the mellow, warm bonelessness of coming home. Nicky hooks his ankle around Joe’s, smiles that soft, beautiful smile, and Joe lets it wash over him, lets the relief flow through him. He knows his bed won’t be agonisingly empty tonight, and his dreams will settle.

He leans into Nicky, pressing their shoulders together, and sighs in contentment.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Llama I just got a big brain moment

What if MC has a crush on Papyrus?? Like any of the Papyruses from your aus where he’s around? How would Sans/Red/Skull react?

Imagine the ✨drama✨

oh dear

Sans: It makes sense. His bro is super cool, right? Who wouldn’t love his bro? The second he catches on that she likes Pap, and I mean literally the moment he draws those “oh” dots, he violently crushes his romantic feelings under his slipper crocs. Her friendship is still valuable to him- he can bond with her over their shared appreciation of how cool his brother is, right? He can enjoy her proximity, let her know he approves, make her feel welcomed to the skeleton family. Sans is content to be skipped, he wants his two favourite people in the world to be happy.

Nobody will ever know how often he dreams about her.

Red: It depends pretty intensely on how his Pap feels about Mc.

It Pap likes her back, Red just works hard to convince himself that his feelings are a fluke that will disappear eventually, even as time only solidifies them. If Mc reaches his brother’s impossible standards for a datemate, the two of them are clearly meant for each other. He just pines from afar, trying to distract himself with alcohol and other partners... it hurts, to have someone he adores so close yet so far, but if it makes them both happy he can convincingly act like it doesn’t hurt. He might drunkenly flirt once or twice, but that’s it- time will make pretending easier.

... But if Pap doesn’t like her back, Red gets... spiteful. Red is so desperate to get closer to her, he craves her attention & love more and more as time goes on- she gives that precious attention to Pap and he’s rejecting it? He’s wasting it. She deserves better. Though he inserts himself as her shoulder to cry on, he’s pissed, and it would for sure cause some friction between the brothers. Pap is frustrated and Red is jealous. Red doesn’t normally get attached enough to get jealous, but when he does, he’s got a pretty intense mean streak.

Skull: Oh dear x10

It’s messy for everyone. The first time Skull has fallen in love, and she likes his brother instead... a real big oof. Skull understands someone not liking him, he’s not exactly a pretty picture- but it still stings. Pap would immediately see how much she means to Skull, and would try to either let her down gently, or steer her toward his brother instead.

... Skull might come across as prickly, around her. He rarely looks at/speaks to her, he’s feeling a lot of things all at the same time and it makes him hard to communicate with, he usually vacates the room if she’s there because it’s just too much and he isn’t emotionally secure enough to handle it all. He also has a tendency to blurt out that he loves her, which can make a situation... a lot more awkward.

Skull is the most likely to end up pushing his affection onto her. Sans and Red can contain themselves, but Skull isn’t exactly famous for his self control. He might growl at someone she talks to, or get lost in his head while looking at her and try to go in for a kiss. Every rejection hurts a little more, but no matter what happens, he just can’t stop his Soul from yearning.

[townsenddecades]

1329 – Day 2 – Chevalier Home

Robert wants to weep when they find their boy unmoving and cold one morning. They hadn’t  even noticed he was sick. Hawise is in tears, certain that it is her fault and that she will lose her position at once, which doesn’t help the situation. Reassuring her gives Robert something to focus on, but it also draws his attention away from his wife, who has gone utterly still with their lifeless son cradled in her arms.

Robert sends Hawise away to prepare breakfast, just to get her out of the way, and then walks over to where Elisaria is sitting on the bed.

“My dearest?”, he questions carefully. She doesn’t respond.

He sits down next to her, unsure what to do, what to say, only now truly realizing that their son, their third son, is dead. The Watcher has once again snatched one of their children away. Rage fills him, swiftly followed by desperate grief. Why their sons? Why all of them? They were so careful to keep Landon away from everything that could cause him to sicken. And he still died. It isn’t just.

He was only three months old.

Three months.

He closes his eyes tightly, desperate to keep his own rising tears down.

They bury their boy next to his brothers, to ascertain that at least his body won’t rest alone. His soul, they hope, will be safe with the Watcher. It would be cruel of Her to not only take him away, but to then neglect him.

Even before this, they visited their sons’ graves often, but now, there is hardly a day where Robert returns from town and doesn’t find Elisaria there. Every occasion makes him more reluctant to leave her alone, but he can’t neglect his duties to the earl.

Once, when he approaches her, he hears her angrily muttering. And he catches enough of her curses of the Watcher’s name to grow concerned.

“You shouldn’t say such things, my love. It’s blasphemous.”

“What of it?”, she snaps, whirling around so fast that the veil of her headdress hangs still in the air for a moment. “If the Watcher does not wish for my criticism, She shouldn’t take my sons away from me.”

Never in his life has he seen his gentle wife this angry. His heart goes cold at her words, and he looks around quickly, but the road and fields abutting their lands are, blessedly, empty of listeners. He takes Elisaria’s hands in his. “I feel the same, my love, but our sons wouldn’t want their mother to incriminate herself like this. If someone were to hear you-”

“They can’t want anything! She took them from us before they learned how to want!”, she shouts and yanks her hands out of his grasps. “I can’t understand how you accept this so calmly! They were our children, Robert!”

“And I mourn them.” He takes to step forward her but stills when she raises her hands and steps back. “Mon cœur, do you think the Watcher’s capriciousness doesn’t affect me? I lost my mother when I was just a boy, I lost siblings, I watched my brother the earl and Lady Petersmarch lose most of their children. My heart bled not only for our boys at their loss, but for you. But I have to believe that She has a plan. That She wants to protect them from the wickedness of the world. I’d go mad otherwise.”

“We could protect them. And what about our girls? Aren’t they worthy of protection?”

“Maybe She knows what fate would have befallen our boys and wanted to protect them from it”, he suggests. He doesn’t know if he believes that. He is angry too, although he knows it is blasphemy. But he has too much experience in pulling himself together and burying his emotions.

His words don’t make Elisaria any happier. She merely looks away. “If She took them to protect them, I don’t know that I want to know what Her plan for the rest of us is”, she whispers. She doesn’t resist when he pulls her into his arms, and she doesn’t expect him to answer.

Which is all the better, because he doesn’t know what to say to that. But it makes him horribly afraid for what is to come.

Previous: 1329, Day 2, Part 1/3 <--> Next: 1329, Day 2, Part 3/3

[shalomniscient]

as the world caves in. || multiple x reader

AND HERE IT IS / OUR FINAL NIGHT ALIVE / AND AS THE EARTH BURNS TO THE GROUND / OH GIRL IT’S YOU THAT I LIE WITH / AS THE ATOM BOMB LOCKS IN / OH GIRL IT’S YOU / I WATCH TV WITH / AS THE WORLD CAVES IN

cw. major character death

notes. felt silly

arlecchino

You find her against a broken pillar.

Her once pristine suit is in tatters. You can’t even discern anymore where red fabric ends and blood begins. The black feather-like horn in her hair has cracked, revealing crimson enamel, pulsing in tune with the balemoon above both your heads. Her curse, once up to her elbows, has creeped up to her shoulders, her neck, and just below her jaw. Each breath she takes is labored, pained. One of her wings lies uselessly by her side, while the other is just a stump.

She will die here.

But that’s fine, because you plan on dying right along with her.

Arlecchino’s head snaps up as you hobble over to her. The second coming of the cataclysm hadn’t exactly spared you either; a rifthound’s cursed teeth had sunk deep into your thigh. The wound is likely fatal on its own, though the abyssal corruption spreading through you at an alarming rate only solidifies your death sentence. Still, it doesn’t stop Arlecchino from snapping at you as you approach, brows furrowed, her clawed hands digging into dead soil.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses. You really know the extent of her injuries and exhaustion now—if she was in even slightly better condition, she’d have picked you up and flown you right back somewhere safe. But she isn’t, so you let yourself slide down the pillar next to her with a snort.

“What does it look like?” you huff. “I’m here for you, idiot.”

She gives you a look between incredulity and despair. “You—“

“If you think I’d ever leave you behind, I’m going to smack you.”

Arlecchino quiets at that briefly. You lean your head back against the pillar, a remnant of a building ravaged by the angry surge of the Abyss, and shut your eyes. You can feel Arlecchino’s eyes bore into the side of your face, tracing the line of your jaw, the swell of your cheek, then the shape of your lips, as if to memorize you. When she speaks again, her voice is remarkably soft.

“You’ll die,” she whispers, and you turn your head to her with a smile, meeting her eyes. You take her larger hand in your own—your wedding bands meet with a soft clink of metal.

“I’d follow you to oblivion and back, Peruere.”

Something in her expression shutters, and Peruere leans down to press her forehead against your own. She’s so close, like this. Close enough for you to see the way the veins and arteries in her neck pulse under curse-marked skin to a beat that mirrors your own; close enough for you to feel the way her breath fans over your cheek; close enough for you to kiss her.

And you do, free hand cradling her cheek while the other cups the nape of her neck. Peruere returns the kiss like she’s trying to press her soul against your lips. To give it to you instead of whatever higher power will claim it in the end. Her hand in yours squeezes gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. Her remaining wing rises, a little shakily, and wraps around you, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss, even as wetness gathers in your lashes.

Peruere wipes them away with her thumb. Draws back just enough to look you in the eyes one last time, selfishly. The earth wails in the distance, cracking and splintering, and the wind howls above your heads. The crimson balemoon shines impassively down as the herald of the apocalypse, cold and unfeeling. But Peruere’s wing around you is warm, and her palm caressing your cheek feels like being at home.

“To oblivion and back,” Peruere whispers, and then the world ends—

—but at least for you and her, it ends in love.

shalom

Shalom has always known you would meet a solitary end. She had said as much to you, back in the bureau when she had first met you—or rather, when you had first met her, in your fragmented memory. And some part of her was content with the fact. She’s smart, diligent. A HUSH. She could learn you utterly and completely, dive into and discover the depths of your heart before her time runs out.

She does achieve her goal, in the end. But she also falls terribly in love with you, and now the thought of being without you makes her unbroken heart constrict in her chest.

Now here she stands, in this field of lillies she once haunted. This realm of Mania, deceptively beautiful, with a cloudless blue sky stretching on endlessly. She can feel the gaze of the Illusory Moon crawl up her spine, but that is not her concern. No, her concern is you, standing off into the distance, alone—a solitary figure of grey against the blinding white. And somehow, you just know she’s there; like Orpheus for Eurydice, like something bone deep in you compels you to turn around and look.

But Shalom doesn’t disappear like Eurydice. Instead, she steps forward and slots herself into your arms instead with a hum, her hands splaying on your shoulder blades, holding you close. She buries her head in your neck, breathes in your scent—lillies, always lillies—and speaks.

“This is it, then.”

You nod. Card your fingers through her wine-red hair. “This is it.”

“It’s quite peaceful,” she muses, shifting to rest her ear against your chest. Your heartbeat thuds, calm and powerful, and Shalom lets her eyes flutter shut at the rhythm. You manage a small chuckle.

“For now. It’ll get quite ugly soon, at least on the outside,” you murmur. Your lips press a kiss to the top of her head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She laughs at that. “There are many things I shouldn’t be, and yet, here we are. Mostly because of you, you know.”

“You know what I mean,” you huff, and she smiles. Of course she does. This is your solitary end, the cold calculus of the universe that demands your life in exchange for the world. If she was still HUSH, she’d see it as a bargain. But she’s not HUSH anymore, just Shalom, and suddenly the price is too high, too unacceptable.

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m selfish,” she admits, voice barely above the breeze rustling the flowers by your feet. “I don’t want to be in a world without you.”

Not when you are the one who gives it meaning.

You’re silent for a moment, before a rueful expression pulls at your lips. You shake your head with an affectionate sigh, resting your forehead against hers. You know better than to argue with her. Your hand finds hers, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently. No words are exchanged between you, but no words are necessary. Her hand squeezes back, and then you’re turning, facing the growing light at the end of the horizon. You’re her Orpheus amidst the flowers, leading her forward step by step until the light devours you both. To life, or to death, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t quite care.

For like Eurydice, what else mattered besides the hand in her own, the proof that she was loved?

kujou sara

Sara once thought she knew pain. Cuts and bruises, arrowheads and sword slashes—none of these are new to her. Her body is a canvas of scars from her time as a warrior, some pale and faded, while others are pink and freshly healed. Pain is inevitable, in a profession such as hers. Sara once thought she knew pain, but nothing could have ever prepared her for the agony of seeing tears paint your soft cheeks as you lie in her arms, staining the burnt soil below you red with your blood.

It feels like someone has reached into her chest, fingers curling around her heart and squeezing tight. Everything else has faded to a dull sensation; the arrows lodged in her wings as she shields you both from the world; the gash in her side from an axe-wielding hilichurl; the throb in her skull from when an Abyss Herald had managed to get a lucky hit in. The war around you both is now an afterthought, even as the skies rage and the Abyss spills forth like a hellish tide. No, the only thing she can focus on is you, as your lips painted red part and whisper to her brokenly.

“Sara,” you choke out, “I love you.”

Sara leans down, pressing her forehead to yours. Her golden eyes meet yours, and she hopes you can see the sincerity within. “I love you too, dearest.”

Your breathing rattles ominously in your chest, and Sara holds you tighter. Closer. A small comfort as death approaches you both on silent feet, ready to collect. Your fingers grip the front of her uniform tightly, staining her white uniform red. “Promise me,” you rasp, and Sara exhales shakily.

“Anything.”

“Find me again,” you plead, your voice so small she would not have heard you, were it not for her tengu senses. “In the next life, promise you’ll find me again—“

She grips your hand tightly. “I promise. I promise, my love, so wait for me.”

She doesn’t even know what awaits either of you beyond this. Is there even such thing as a next life? Heaven? Hell? She doesn’t know, but she doesn’t care. If there is a next life, she will find you, over and over again until the end of time. If heaven doesn’t exist, she’ll build it with her own hands for you. It it does, she’ll meet you there. If hell exists, she’ll carry you out on her back herself. Sara would do anything for you—all you have to do is ask. She kisses you as your breathing slows, your final breath mingling with hers. As death’s shroud settles on her shoulders, she memorises every line on your face, the set of your jaw, the arch of your brows like they’re her north star, to shine forever in her sky and lead her home. Home, wherever you are.

(In another universe, a pair of crows roost on a powerline. In another, a black obi is tied around a beautiful kimono. In another, a museum’s display katana rests peacefully in its delicate sheathe.

In another, she stands hand in hand with you again, looking at them all.)

[mxnkeydo]

i loved you ‘til my dying day ✧ percy jackson oneshot

✧ summary the war against gaea has finally come. percy and his friends are thrown into the battle, but when something draws him closer to his girlfriend, annabeth, he doesn’t expect it to end like it does.

✧ genre angst, sad

✧ word count 1.4K

✧ warnings foul language, mention of blood

✧ link to main masterlist

✧ a/n ok. so. i actually have no clue what i wrote because the inspo for this came late last night while i was scrolling tumblr and came across this prompt. hope this is okay (even though it is most likely trash heh) also tagging @urfriendlywriter thank you for the lovely prompt! (side note: reblogs would mean the world to me!!)

✧ ✧ ✧

Demigods are merely the gods’ pawns, Percy thinks, swinging Riptide in an arch around him. They were used, they were manipulated, and they were laughed at. Being the son of Poseidon is not as great as they all think it is.

And what’s the point when the Fates have it all planned out, anyway? What is so great in defeating all those monsters when you were just destined to die in the end?

He glances at his girlfriend, Annabeth, through all the commotion. Her blonde curls bounce as she moves like a human tornado, and a vicious scowl is seared onto her face. The demons around her visibly back off, unsure of how to approach in a non-suicidal way. In a daze, Percy proudly mutters, “That’s my girl.”

But a single moment of inactivity could cost him his life; a new batch of giants are gaining on him already, smiling like the devil had descended to take his soul. He slashes through them all with his blade, finishing them in a matter of seconds, soon staring at the empty space where they once stood. Their remains – that black, sparkling dust – float to the ground and settle in the grass. It should give him a good feeling, eliminating all of those monsters, but instead all he feels is a certain uneasiness that makes his stomach churn.

Yet, there is nothing he can do about it other than fight. Chiron said earlier that they are helping the gods, but really, they are only helping themselves. After one Great Prophecy, Percy knows that it’s all a lie, that the immortals needed them to stay alive. They managed just fine when it was only them atop Olympus. They were all just lazy and prideful and indolent and Percy has had enough.

As he’s fighting his way to the middle of the crowd he catches sight of Annabeth once more and Percy feels it again; that anxious feeling that has shivers running down his spine, like there’s a ghost breathing down his back. He turns, but there’s nothing there other than more monsters, more demons, more creatures to kill. Almost instinctively, he slices a charging hellhound in half, wincing a half-second later when he realizes it could have been Mrs. O’Leary.

His own power scares him. Percy has never admitted this truth to anyone, not even Annabeth. Sometimes, fighting in a battle was like being twelve years old again, standing back and watching his seventeen year old self slay the bad guys without batting an eye. He used to think it was some great feat, but not anymore. Death, regardless of who died, is still death.

Suddenly, a wind comes rolling their way and Percy can’t help but ease his muscles as he briefly allows it to wash over him. It’s a short, stolen moment that reminds him that the world isn’t all bloody and violent and full of vengeance. It could be beautiful too, if they let it. If they stop destroying, destroying, destroying, and start creating instead. For the first time, Percy wholly understands his girlfriend’s passion for architecture; it’s all about making something new, building something exquisite for the coming generations to admire.

For the third time, he looks at her. He feels a strange pull, like an invisible force yanking him in her direction. Percy knows his instincts are always right, but…

But nothing. His instincts are always spot on. If they tell him to go to Anmabeth’s side, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.

Percy pushes past demigods, both Greek and Roman, as they fight hard—and more importantly, fight as one. In his peripheral vision, he spots Reyna’s long braid whipping out, smacking a monster in the face. Next to her is Piper, looking like a living, breathing death wish. Put a dagger in that girl’s hand, and she turns from sugar and spice to straight up murderous. Percy thinks he sees Grover too, somewhere. His chest does a painful pang at the thought of his best friend, and that they might not see one another again.

Percy’s closer to Annabeth now, only a few feet away. He opens his mouth to call out to her, to let her know that he’s okay, to tell her that they won’t be separated ever again.

And there it is, fiercer than ever. That ominous feeling that something bad’s about to happen. Before he even knows it, Percy flings himself in front of Annabeth with a savage battlecry that manages to pierce his own ears.

Time stops. The world ceases to turn. All he can see is…

Blood.

Deep crimson blood, coming from… his sternum? Percy presses his fingers to the wound deliriously, and feels a sharp point sticking out of his torso.

Percy Jackson, age seventeen. Cause of death: a spear to the abdomen. It sounds ridiculous; he, the demigod that underwent the curse of Achilles, dying from a spear wound? Percy manages a smile as his knees wobble and bend underneath him. Riptide clatters to the ground.

“Seaweed Brain?” Her voice is distant, like he’s underwater. “Seaweed Brain–Percy, stay with me.”

Vaguely, he hears her shout for medics, for someone from the Apollo cabin, for anyone, anyone, who will help him.

“You’re going to be fine,” she assures him, frantically, but it sounds more like she’s only reassuring herself. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. As long as we’re together, remember?”

Percy tries to utter a word, but instead coughs up more blood, staining the dirt around him a sickening red. “Wise Girl, I’m fine,” he croaks with difficulty. His hand still trembling and weak rises to cup her face. “I’m– hey, look at me.”

And she does. Her eyes are red and bloodshot and grief-struck. Her once-tan skin now seems blackened and gray. “You’re bleeding,” she whispers, grabbing his outstretched hand. Her chest rises and falls with deep, desperate breaths as she laces their fingers together and places them on her heart. “I swear to all the gods, Percy, if you love me one bit you will stay conscious, you hear me?” Annabeth’s voice trembles as she tries hard to push the tears back.

“Don’t scold me,” Percy protests feebly. “Am I not in pain?”

“Percy! Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He grins slightly, then winces once his eyes land on the blood pooling from his stomach. Annabeth must have noticed because she lifts his chin and kisses him hard, a year’s worth of passion and desire poured into it. When she pulls away a split second later, she’s full-on sobbing. She presses kisses to his face, to the top of his head, buries her face in his hair.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispers, and then she’s seven years old again. “Please, don’t leave me again.” She hiccups. Then: “Fuck, Percy, why would you do that? Why would you get yourself injured like this?”

“Because I love you, Wise Girl.”

“Percy—“

“No, wait. I love you. I love how your brain’s always whirring with some new plan, I love the sound of your laugh, I love the way you smile at me. I love everything about you. I want you to know.”

“Percy…stop,” Annabeth says softly. “We’re going to help you, please...”

“Remember when I fell into the canoe lake at camp? That was funny.”

“We’re in the middle of a war and you’re making jokes?” Her eyes suddenly spark furiously behind a wall of tears.

“Oh, and remember the time you nearly killed me during sparring?”

Annabeth snorted at that, her lips turning up into a trembling smile. “I destroyed you, admit it.”

“Annabeth,” Percy breathes. “I—I love you. So much.”

“No, you are not dying on me!”

“Annabeth.”

It takes her a moment to respond. “I love you too,” she says with difficulty, like the words are being ripped out of her mouth.

“Tell my mom I love her too, okay? And—and Paul. And Grover. And Frank and Hazel. Chiron, too. Everyone.”

“Percy, no, stay with me—“

He soaks in the sight of his girlfriend one last time—her stormy gray irises, her princess curls—before closing his eyes.

Annabeth shouts for the medic again—a guttural, anguished call, and it’s the last thing Percy hears before he breathes his last next to the pine tree on the border of Camp Half-Blood.

[alabasterpickles]

😭 omg you’re Hades x Persephone artwork is so amazing! I can’t get enough of the comic strips! If you turned this into a comic series I’d totally read it!

I did have a question if you didn’t mind. What would you say your version would be of Hades ‘kidnapping’ Persephone like in the original story?

Can’t wait to see more of your work! Take care!

Strap in cause this is going to be a long(ish) explanation! 😂

Disney obviously took many liberties with the Hercules film, especially with Hades, so I’m kinda putting a twist on the abduction story —

Disney’s Hades is clever and a bit of a snake oil peddler so when it comes to the whole “throwing her over his shoulder and disappearing into the night” narrative, I just don’t see him doing that?

He’s never that direct. He’s got a back-door solution to all his problems.

Here’s how I think he’d do it —

I have the story mapped out like this: Persephone makes her annual appearance on spring and Hades is topside for some reason (possibly plotting the downfall of his brothers, semantics I’m still developing!) when he notices her for the first time.

Based on the show’s logic, I’m gonna assume he doesn’t volunteer to spend a lot of time on the surface during spring, considering how much he despises it.

Anyway, Hermes is making his rounds and notices Hades getting ready to make a move so he intervenes initially. But then, lightbulb! He figures it’s probably best that Hades find himself a wife so he’s too distracted to cause chaos for the rest of the pantheon. From here, he and several other gods start to engineer circumstances to bring Hades and Persephone together.

I’m going for a very Star-crossed lovers vibe on this one, kind of Romeo and Juliet, since historically speaking Demeter and Hades aren’t on good terms. Demeter has already arranged for her daughter to marry another Olympian (in this case, Ares. I’m using him because he’s pig-headed and bullish enough in character to rival Hades as a villain!), this is naturally a bone of contention between the two of them because Persephone can’t stand the guys.

I like the idea of Hades and Persephone meeting up secretly, going on “pseudo-dates” to get away from their Godly duties and the pressures of being them. They begin to discover they have a lot more in common than they expected. Eventually they fall in love and Persephone has to make a decision — break off the engagement with Ares or follow through on the marriage and be miserable.

Of course this is also an issue for Hades so as the conflict comes to a head, he offers Demeter an ultimatum, either she allows her daughter to stay with him or he unleashes the Underworld’s entire soul content on the surface to wreak havoc on the mortal and godly realms respectively (he’s bluffing).

Zeus and Hera both know this but want to see him happy and out of their hair. They decide to play along.

Zeus uses his divine influence to make a deal with his brother in Demeter’s stead, so Hades draws up a contract (as he is wont to do) and the pair of them agree that Persephone is to spend six months in the underworld and six months on the surface working with her mother. Fair enough, right?

Since the whole scheme wasn’t strictly consensual, Persephone is hurt and angry that Hades would be so cavalier with signing away her freedom. Hades tries to explain to her that he was only trying to protect her from marrying someone she didn’t love and by extension not lose her to Ares for eternity in the process.

Although it was “technically” against her will, it definitely wasn’t forced, because I truly believe Disney’s Hades would want her to be happy with him in the Underworld like any other version would. 😂

There’s a lot of build up in my mind before they get to that point, by the time any of this takes place they’re already in a well established relationship, but that’s the gist of it.

She eventually forgives him and they live happily ever after! ❤️

[one-step-at-a-time25]

i don’t get why people are hating on Agatha being mad at rio

Imagine this

your a witch surrounded by death so much so you feel in love with them and they love you back,Your alone in the woods in pain as you see her face again the only time you don’t want to, you beg you plead you can’t let your child die ( +her implied abuse from her mother causing her to want to love her child fully) Your love is going to take away your child

but she lets your child live(also I’m pretty sure the line “your made of scratch” imply that death helped make him) not telling you when his time is up so you have to live with the consistent anxiety and fear

you start to kill of witches so death doesn’t catch up with him, as you do this your son and you make a beautiful song about surviving

and one day your kid doesn’t want to he doesn’t like killing so one day you don’t only one day you don’t

as you awake that morning you stare at his lifeless body, your heart your soul dead in your arms (also her consciousness) he was stole from you in the middle of night no chances to say goodbye

Soon you become addicted to killing maybe because of the thrill maybe because it reminded your of your dead child maybe maybe you wanted to draw enough power because you couldn’t save him the first time

But you still see her face the face that took your child you love her but she stole him